Daisy Petals
by Siskiyou
Summary: 100 Word chapters exploring Spock and Uhura's relationship. Posting some new random bits that piled up. I attempted to put them into a story line that made sense.
1. Ch 1 Intro

A/N: I was curious about the 100 word format. Well, when applied to romantic fluff it appears to be pretty dang addictive. What you will find following are short 100 word vignettes between Spock and Uhura (as counted by MSWord), starting out in their 'getting to know you' Academy days. Loves me, loves me not: just daisy petals falling. Warning: take nothing here seriously. I will take suggestions, if you'd like to send any my way. I needed some instant gratification.

Have you caught on that this is also 100 words?

(I own nothing, I only come here to play!)


	2. Ch 2 Spock: To Miss

My TA has been gone the first of three weeks: planned fieldwork at the Martian deep space communication array. When did I become so accustomed to the cheer of her presence?

I sigh, catch myself doing so, and straighten my tense shoulders.

Impulsively, I throw open my office window and the spring air and chattering birdsong rushes in. I close my eyes, breathing in the cool flower scented air.

She would relish this day; she would have turned in surprise at my action, her long dark hair swinging over her shoulder, her full lips pursing in curiosity.

I miss her.


	3. Ch 3 Uhura:  Your Welcome

I'm exhausted, glad to be home. I'm not paying attention, just talking on the com to my roommate as I stagger in exhaustion down the station concourse. Suddenly someone is beside me, gently taking the grip of my luggage handle from me.

"Commander, I'm so surprised to run into you!" I exclaim ungraciously, smiling in surprise. What a coincidence! How great to see Commander Spock here!

He faces me, expressionless. "Welcome home. I trust your fieldwork went well."

"_Great_, but I'm glad to be back."

"Likewise." He murmurs.

My brows draw. Did he just look…pleased? I must really be tired.


	4. Ch 4 Uhura:  Scripted

He left suddenly, earlier, on some unexpected Academy business, leaving me to sort the notes and Pads scattered across his desk. One scrap: a note in rough Vulcan script. I set it aside until I'm almost finished.

I could probably throw it away. I've never seen him handwrite anything important. I turn the paper, frustrated to be unable to recognize the word. Oola? Oo-la-la? I laugh at my unintended French "oo-la-la." No, that was probably NOT what he doodled. Wait, the tiny diacritical mark beside the swirl…making it…_hu?_ And twice at the second swirl…_rah?_

My name…spelled phonetically in Vulcan script.


	5. Ch 5 Uhura:  The Card

He swallows and looks away, and I'm sure I've embarrassed him somehow.

"Sorry." I leave the PadForm on his desk for signature and quickly return to my own desk.

His hand hovers over his keyboard, as if to quickly delete his work, but he hesitates; swallows. He looks away before he turns back to me. "Are you familiar with…greeting card software, Cadet Uhura? I am not."

"Sure…?"

"It…is my Mother's birthday…"

I'm next to him in a flash, leaning in. "Let me see what you've made so far. Oh, that's a lovely graphic."

"An appropriate sentiment…eludes me…"

"Let me help."


	6. Ch 6 Spock:  Sleeping Beauty

I turn and observe the rhythmic rise and fall of Uhura's breathing. In end of the semester exhaustion she has fallen asleep on her desk: graceful limbs askew, her face pressed to her elbow.

Tomorrow she returns home to Kenya for spring break.

I had hoped to speak with her before then, but I must attend to pressing business with the Dean. I shall not wake her. I take my summer cloak down from the back of my office door and carefully slip it around her shoulders.

Without waking, she murmurs my name and pulls my cloak beneath her cheek.


	7. Ch 7 Uhura: Silent Night

After a few seconds of review Spock flicks off the newsvids and sits back, his hands gripping his knees.

"Good night." I swing my jacket around my shoulders. Usually he'll turn and nod to me, but he doesn't move.

"Lights off." He commands, abruptly leaving us both in darkness. "Goodnight, Cadet."

How odd.

Gaila looks up from her pink faux fur covered bed. "Hey, Chicklet. Did you get to meet Commando Cutie's dad today?" She sits up, eager for gossip.

"_What_?"

"Today's news! The _Rigel_ Conference? Ambassador Sarek returned today. _Duh_."

I screen all Spock's communications. His father never calls.


	8. Ch 8 Spock:  Growing Things

I thank Cadet Uhura for delivering the last minute research papers to my apartment. I brush potting soil from my knees as I stand.

She is staring at me in disbelief: _stunned_ disbelief.

"Explain."

She blushes, then calms her features. "I'm merely surprised, Commander."

"Are these not…rather ordinary flowers?"

She looks down, appearing to reconsider her reaction. "I didn't expect you to be the type...ah."

I blink, frustrated. Have I violated yet another unspoken human behavioral norm?

"The geraniums needed planting. My mother sent these starts from Seattle."

She studies my face, then kneels to study my handiwork. "They're beautiful."


	9. Ch 9  Uhura:  Competition

His eyes are closed and he sits cross-legged on his meditation dais, his lit firepot sputtering. I know he senses my presence. I wait for him to surface.

When his eyes finally open I cross my arms. "You were jealous."

I'm not surprised when he flicks one eyebrow in acknowledgment. "I will never make you laugh in Swahili like M'Benga."

No. I can't imagine it. "Baby…"

"There are too many variables for me to analyze the significance of this, if it negatively impacts the viability—"

I cut him off by kissing him. He reponds in kind. Analyze _that_.


	10. Ch 10 Uhura:  Had I Known

She breezes confidently into his office, but I don't recognize her.

"May I help you?"

She seems puzzled. "Spock's out?"

She squints at his office hours posted by the door.

"He was called to the Dean's office." I stand. "I'm Spock's TA, Cadet Uhura."

She's clearly disappointed. "Oh. Well. I only had a few minutes to spare. I'm expected back…" She sighs. "Don't say anything. It's better that way." She turns to leave.

"Ma'am, your name?"

She turns, putting a finger to her lips to shush me. "Amanda, but just between you and me, okay?"

I shrug. "As you wish."


	11. Ch 11 Spock:  A Risk

I left a cryptic message on Cadet Uhura's desk: _Roof, or page me if needed._ She will be curious.

The rooftop door opens and she steps forward, hesitant.

"…Sir?" She queries.

I draw a circle with a fingertip, directing her to turn around.

The eastern horizon glows silver. Across the bay the full moon slowly rises from behind Mt. Diablo, the forced perspective giving it the expected illusion of magnification.

"Oh…" She breathes, pleased, taking in the view.

"Atmospheric conditions tonight were optimal—"

I fall silent when her fingertips slide across my arm.

She smiles warmly. "Thank you, Commander."


	12. Ch 12 Uhura: Safe with Me

I know they wonder. But a communications officer is a trained keeper of secrets. And I have learned from the best, from him, how to let my face be a mask.

I respond to crew curiosity with professional reserve: not aloofness, even that might seem to say I have something to hide.

After the Narada, on the long sub-warp trip home, he worked relentlessly to keep the Enterprise functioning. Despite his exhaustion he could only sleep spooned tightly around me, each breath against my shoulder hot and slow, each taken in controlled mathematical precision.

Were there tears? I'll never tell.


	13. Ch 13 Uhura: Sweet Treat

I turn toward the office, curious how he'll react.

Selling their cookies, two little girl scouts look up at him: their eyes wide, like they'd bitten off more than they could chew.

"They could be a gift if you don't eat them…" The braver one adds hopefully.

"I find Samoa's acceptable. I will purchase two boxes."

The girls scan his debit chip then run away, giggling.

"Cookies?"

He breaks open a box and offers the contents to me. I take one and… it's really good.

"I believe we need tea to go with these. I shall return in a moment."


	14. Ch 14 Spock:  Knit Together

Mother gives me her knowing, mischievous look. She presses a ball of fine black _sha'mi_ wool into my hands, circling her own hands around mine.

"Let's see," she teases, "a knitter would be…precise. Analytical. Organized. Refined. Hmm. And also…a little homey. Someone surprisingly…comfortable to be around." She raises an eyebrow at me.

Her acuity can be so…exasperating. I sigh without looking away.

She squeezes my hands. "I'm…happy for you. That you have a friend, Spock."

"She is my TA. What you are implying would be inappropriate, mother. I will, however, give her this wool."

She smiles and releases my hands.


	15. Ch 15 Uhura:  Catty

"I do not have a cat."

I raise an eyebrow at the black and white feline perched on his lap, purring mightily in zen contentment.

"Oh?"

"Kazen belongs to the neighbor."

"And you know its name because…?"

"_She_ told me."

"Really. The cat."

He blinks at me. "The neighbor."

Oh. Well…I guess I'd just as soon not know if he communicates telepathically with animals. I mean, what next, talking to whales?

He strokes the cat's head and her eyes squint in pleasure.

The cat would have to be female: one more trying to compete with me.

Just what I need.


	16. Ch 16 Uhura: Slight

He stares at me before swallowing twice. "My staff deserved better treatment."

My heart breaks for him, but I shrug in false bravado. "Good riddance."

The VSA delegates had been dismissive of Spock's Academy science labs: the quantum mechanics experiments glistening and complex, demonstrating months of preparation by his team of graduate students. Captain Pike had raved over the efficiencies they'd discovered.

Professor Solon merely glanced over the work, making one derisory comment before sweeping out with his entourage: "Most quaint."

Later, Spock sighs. "Disappointment would be a human response."

"You deserved better, Spock."

"It went as well as expected."


	17. Ch 17 Uhura: From the Mouths of Babes

"Does he ever talk about her?"

Gaila is unusually subdued, for her. Her eyes narrow as she studies me.

"Her?"

"Yeah. His mom."

"He…said she was a teacher."

Gaila snorts, then bites her lip. "Oh. Well maybe…before she was kidnapped by Syndicate slavers." She shrugs a green shoulder. "She might be teaching again." Then she laughs. "I'd love _that _class."

I feel the blood drain from my face.

"Gaila—" I protest.

"She's famous, you know. On Orion. She was N'Orlux's most expensive before the Vulcan Embassy bought her."

"Honey. Never, _ever _bring this up again."

Gaila blinks, pouting. "Sorry." 

A/N: What if the Vulcan boys' accusation were true? Apologies, Amanda!


	18. Ch 18 Spock:  Bagel

I hesitate, my hand hovering over the bagels, stayed by an unprecedented consideration of my TA's morning level of hunger. Her Quantum Mechanics class begins at 6:20 a.m. She often arrives in my office afterward juggling coffee and study pads, and complaining of hunger.

Buying her food would violate Vulcan propriety. My fingers curl closed.

She might think it forward of me. My hand falls.

But mother would approve of performing a kindness.

I quickly place a cinnamon raisin bagel into the bag with my seeded one.

I will place it on Uhura's desk and anticipate her smile of surprise.


	19. Ch 19 Spock: To Pamper

"Please, please, _please_?"

I stare back at her.

"I've washed them. Exfoliated. Really, they're not nasty at all."

I raise my eyebrows, testing how far she will take this.

She is not one to pout, but very nearly does so. "It's girls' spa night. I can't go like this. Help me out?"

I sit beside her on my sofa and pull her feet into my lap.

Her feet are as graceful and refined as the rest of her. I surprise her with a traditional Vulcan foot massage. She melts into the cushions.

I then precisely apply the requisite nail polish.


	20. Ch 20 Spock:  What's Important

Twenty-seven.

I knew.

She came to my cabin on the return voyage, her arms crossed over her chest. "Read them."

"I can't." And I turned away from her.

Again, at my apartment; the office; the lab; at my grandfather's house.

This time I pull up my mother's unopened emails. I skim the subject lines: birthdays, a tea order, weather...nothing in particular. Nothing…important.

This time, I turn toward Nyota. I cannot lift my eyes. I still respond the same: I can barely control the surge of grief.

"I still can't…"

"It's OK…"

This time…I reach for Nyota, and embrace her tightly.


	21. Ch 21 Uhura:  Invisible Means of Support

Gaila throws a stack of study pads onto her bed.

"You and your errands!" She sighs dramatically, flopping onto the bed herself, propping her chin on her hands.

"Well?"

"Chris said he'd _consider_ inviting Spock along to the professors' pub night at Brock's." She rolls onto her back, grabbing a study pad as she goes.

Uhura frowns in disappointment. "Oh…well…"

"Your boyfriend's a boring old Vulcan. I mean, what fun could a Vulcan possibly be…" Gaila's eyes drift to one side and her voice trails off. "I see what you mean." She adds softly, frequently a victim of preconceptions herself.


	22. Ch 22 Uhura: Care Packages

As always, he sighed when her monthly care package was delivered to his desk.

As always, it contained a small package of Vulcan tea, an actual antique book or two (usually of pre-reformation poetry), varying packages of "supplementary foodstuffs" (snacks), and a hand knit scarf.

She knitted when she worried about him.

Evidently she worried a lot.

The pile of scarves had gotten so ridiculously large he asked me for help giving them away. He'd already given me three.

Gaila got one.

Chekov.

McCoy.

Even Kirk, for looking motherless one cold day.

All grateful recipients of Amanda's infamous worry scarves.


	23. Ch 23 Spock:  Blindsided

I have made a grave mistake.

I...cannot do this. It is too soon.

I am in the wings of the University's Meany Hall stage: for her memorial and to receive formal recognition of my mother's contributions to xenophonology.

Nyota searches my face, immediately realizing that I am in trouble-but kindly refrains from touching me in public.

"You just have to receive the plaque, Spock. You don't even have to say anything. "

A wave of grief washes through me, blurring my vision.

"You couldn't have known the campus…would be a trigger for you."

"_Nyota_…" I cannot do this.


	24. Ch 24 Uhura:  Blindsided II

The Captain materializes before me, his eyes sweeping the dark backstage.

"No Klingons? I thought that's what it'd take for you to ask me for help."

He's serious, though: his eyes slide toward Spock then snap back to me.

The anxious University President steps forward to grab Kirk's hand. "I've got twelve hundred people out there expecting a speaker."

In a fraction of a second, Kirk flips from warrior mode to a thousand watt smile. "Let's do this."

Grinning, Kirk turns and marches out onto the stage like a rock star, arms in the air.

And the audience loses it.


	25. Ch 25 Spock:  Blindsided III

I am rescued. Mother's memorial is over.

Kirk approaches and stands too close. He is invading my personal space intentionally to gain my attention.

"Your back's against the wall, I see."

Literally.

He studies me with empathy, as if he understands something which I do not.

We regard each other in silence. I know I have control of my face, but my breathing remains…uneven.

"You get it, right?"

After a moment, I shake my head.

"We're here for you. I am. Your crewmates." The Captain waits for my response.

I look down, considering his words. After a moment, I nod.


	26. Ch 26 Spock:  Centered

Light.

Darkness.

Light again.

I open my eyes to the interplay of pale yellow light and cool shadows shifting across my face. A red-flowered vine surrounds the window of our hotel room, its leaves fluttering in the early morning breeze. Shadow and light play across our crumpled bedding.

You are beside me, sleeping; your mahogany skin rich and luminous against the white sheets. You, too, are dappled in yellow light.

My hand feasts on your soft smooth skin, exploring your warmth. You do not wake at my touch, but languidly shift more close.

You are beside me. I am home.


	27. Ch 27 Uhura:  Understanding

'_I shall resign my commission…' _

He'd blurted it out.

And I knew we were _over_.

I let the weight of my falling heart catapult me back into the expected trajectory of my life: my passion for communications, my goals, my work.

Midnight: the door-chime buzzed insistently until I staggered out of bed to answer. I opened the door to a view of bare feet: green tinted toes recoiling from the cold of the deck.

In black silk pajamas he waited, expressionless, hands dangling loose at his sides.

"Nyota…I'm sorry. I regret-"

"Shh, baby." I pulled him inside. "It's okay."


	28. Ch 28 Spock: Duty

I have been meditating. Correction: attempting to meditate, but the calm I seek eludes me.

Sarek monitors me from a distance. "Attend to your duties, and I will attend to ours."

_Ours_. His and mine? Vulcan duties, exclusive…of me?

Without hesitation, my first thought was to serve _my_ people; that my duty was to the good of the many.

Now so few.

And yet, I did not miss Nyota's soft intake of breath…the sorrow I sensed even without touch.

Duty called: with everything that I am, I know I must serve my people.

But I cannot lose you, my _one._


	29. Ch 29 Uhura:  My Calling

"You gonna be okay?"

I look away from Kirk. Damn. I hate it when he's so sincere. It's like being stunned helpless with a charisma phaser.

I nod grudgingly, not wanting to let on how much it hurts to be redeploying without Spock.

"You know, if I'd known…about you guys being... I wouldn't have messed with you at the Academy." He runs one of his strong square hands through his hair, uncomfortable with this conversation. "I'm sorry about that."

Seeing how scarred his hand still is weeks after the battle_, _I relent a little.

"I'll be okay. Sir." Sure. Eventually.


	30. Ch 30 Uhura: Observation

I finally find him on the observation deck, hands clasped behind his back as he stares out at the passing stars. Streamers of pink and purple light from the Starfish Nebula flicker softly through the darkened room.

"Were she alive, she would be telling me that everything will be fine."

"And to stop worrying."

He turns to me, surprise edging into his troubled face. "Indeed."

"Everything will be fine." I say very, very gently. He needs to hear it.

"Illogical," he murmurs, pulling me into his arms.

I snuggle beneath his chin. "Everything will be fine."

It has to be.


	31. Ch 31 McCoy:  Eavesdropped

I've fallen asleep over a cup of coffee before, but this is the first time I've awakened to an angel singing…wait a minute. Oh, damn.

It's the middle of the ship's night, and only a dimmed light flows from the galley.

Uhura's feminine alto rings again, _Today, while the blossoms still cling to the vine_—before she breaks into a teasing laugh. "Here…"

Uhura swirls another strawberry through some melted chocolate, and offers it to Spock. He takes a tentative bite, then she kisses him.

"Good?"

Very softly, Spock sings back, _I will taste your strawberries_.

Uhura grins. "_Very_ nice."


	32. Ch 32 Spock:  Operating on Impulse

Nyota acknowledges me with a nod. With no trace of hesitation, she continues on her march to her work station. And yet, as she passes, she breaks into a smile: not just surprise, but delight.

Around me, this ship, this great undertaking, this…beautiful Enterprise…hums with life.

I control my demeanor, but my emotions are shouting: _yes, yes, yes!_

Still ringing in my ears the mad advice, but from an unchallengeable source: _Do yourself a favor; do what feels right. _

Kirk rises from the Con, and stands. I was unsure of a positive reception.

He smiles unreservedly, welcome in his eyes.


	33. Ch 33 Uhura: Monitoring Frequencies

As we slip into the quieter frequencies of subspace, I lean back and relax into the almost meditative state where my mind sifts raw sound for the patterns of language. This is my place, my strength, doing what no one—not even Spock—can do better.

Through my chair, I feel the warp vibration, the soft thrum of the ship. I can't help that it reminds me of another soft thrum, a different heartbeat now as familiar as my own. I glance toward the station next to mine.

He is just as focused, blue light playing across his face: whole.


	34. Ch 34 Spock: Turbolift Twist

Alpha shift ends, the first one of this new life, and Nyota and I enter the turbolift in tandem. She does not meet my eyes and turns to stand formally beside me as the doors close.

"Nyota—"

"Commander." She cuts me off abruptly, formally, staring forward.

I reach past her, and stop the lift, locking the door.

She looks up at last, a question in her eyes. "How do we do this?"

I give a slight shrug. "Together." But I quickly realize my presumption.

"Preferably." I add.

She swallows and offers two fingers to me in the Vulcan way.


	35. Ch 35 Uhura: Stonn

I hear hurried footsteps behind us.

"_Spockh?_" A deep voice calls.

Beside me, Spock carefully composes the dismay from his face before turning.

"Stonn."

The powerfully built young Vulcan comes to an awkward halt on the slick space station flooring. The crease between his eyebrows slowly deepens as he studies Spock's uniform. "You are not joining the colony."

"I serve our people," Spock's tone drops, "in this way." His words are both defensive and a challenge.

Stonn's eyes narrow slightly. "In Surak's peace Spock: we have all lost too much to continue our old rivalries. Your mother…_I grieve with thee."_


	36. Ch 36 McCoy:  Doctoring

I hand Spock a warm, damp compress for his migraine.

"Lean back and try it over your eyes." I may as well have shaken a rattle over him for the look he gives me. "At least try it."

His slow exhalation tells me it helps.

"Still getting them most evenings?"

"Yes. All but yesterday."

Last night Uhura worked late in Engineering. "Try to keep the heat turned up for now. Even if that means…" I trail off. _Even if it makes his quarters too hot for her to keep him company._ He gets my drift.

"I would prefer…an alternative recommendation."


	37. Ch 37 Uhura:  Wakeup Call

I mute the alarm.

Before the Narada, before Vulcan was lost, he would bound awake with the verve of a toddler, eager to seize the day.

I slide back into bed, my toes teasing their way down his warm shins. His thick lashes draw as he drags himself awake.

" 'Morning, my love."

His hand slides delicately down my upper arm to curve around my hip. This remains unchanged: his bright eyes meet mine, his lips curve softly upward.

"Nyota." He whispers.

Then the light fades, the damned black hole returns, he remembers: the weight of his losses crashes in.


	38. Ch 38 Uhura: Insensitive Sympathy

"My mother's friend." Spock whispers tightly. "I should go—"

Too late: the Betazoid Ambassador spots him. In a heartbeat she is crushing him to her ample bosom, weeping.

"I'm so sorry, Spock. Here, everyone!"

She pulls a holoprojector from her purse and aims it at the wall. A holovid of Spock's mother giving a tour of his family home erupts, life-size, on the wall.

"See?" She sobs. "Only one month ago…!"

"Oh. Spock. Your mother…was really beautiful." The Captain muses.

With a choked protest, Spock frees himself from her grip and flees from the room.


	39. Ch 39 Uhura:  Coping Mechanism

His quarters are dark, his breathing audible.

"Lights, twenty percent." I light his incense and fire-pot and set them before his meditation dais, where he sits cross-legged and expressionless.

"Heat: Vulcan. Shi'Kahr normal." I drape a blanket around his shoulders. Soon I won't be able to tolerate the heat.

I download the holovid chip the Ambassador gave me into his personal files. Later, maybe a lot later, he'll want this.

"I'll check back in an hour, honey."

No response, none expected. I kiss his forehead lightly, then turn to go.

"Thank you." He whispers.


	40. Ch 40 McCoy: Like it or Not

Same time every week. I've stuck to it. Regular counseling sessions, though he objects: Thursdays, 15:00 hours, thirty minutes, my office staring at each other if nothing else. We'll be here. He hates it, but I'm his safety valve.

Someday it will pay off. He'll break finally, or maybe just bend a little.

Today, for the first time, I saw it: the hesitation, the question _almost_ asked.

I glance up from my screen (no sense totally wasting my time.)

"Your mom's birthday today." I note crisply.

He swallows twice, nods sharply, and looks away.


	41. Ch 41 Scotty:  Sandwiched

Just torture a poor engineer: putting me face to arse with the beautiful communications specialist in a Jeffries tube on the array repair.

Oh…now hangin' upside down by her knees from the ladder—

"We're finally making a wee bit o' headway on't, Commander." I snap to as Commander Spock appears below.

"An unconventional access methodology, Lieutenant Uhura. Are you utilizing standard safety precautions?"

She arches out, reaching shoulder deep into the array panel.

I'm not so foolish as to repeat what she says, nor where she indicates Spock can shove it.

"She sends her love." I smile at the Commander.


	42. Ch 42 Uhura:  Sad Birthday

He holds a hologram of his mother loosely in his hands, staring down at it.

"Long day?" I ask gently.

As his teaching assistant, I'd observed the brief weekly calls timed to coincide with her evenings on Vulcan, the small gifts freighted to Vulcan in observation of her birthday, Mother's Day, holidays. He'd even started asking me for gift ideas, and I was glad to offer them for the pleasure of the woman who had raised such a son.

"Yes." He doesn't bother to question my implication.

His head bows. "Difficult…"

"I know." I stand by his shoulder, fighting tears.


	43. Ch 43 Uhura:  Sarek Calls

His Comm signals, with a sigh he answers.

"Incoming call from the Federation Council, Commander. Ambassador Sarek."

His shoulders sag, and he places the hologram of Amanda face down on his desk.

"Put it through."

Sarek: severe, controlled, and still somehow…looking worn.

"Son."

"Father."

Silence drags on.

"Today…"

"Indeed."

"You are…well?"

Spock looks down. "And you?"

Again, silence.

"Lieutenant Uhura, I greet thee. Daughter."

Spock looks up sharply.

"I grieve with thee, Father."

Spock swallows. "Indeed. I, too."

"And I…thee."

Spock swallows and looks down.

"On occasion, Spock….I would request…please call."

The communication abruptly ends.

Spock touches the dark screen.


	44. Ch 44 Spock: Sailing

He sailed.

His human grandfather had taught him to sail as a young refugee from Vulcan; fresh from declining admission to the VSA, fresh from the terrible fight with his father whose words even now…stung.

Sailing: completely alien to his Vulcan childhood.

A wise gift—the wild interface of sea and weather and ship the distraction he'd needed.

Even now, the analogy calmed him.

Pressed flesh to flesh with his beloved he sailed on waves of passion, forgetting; racing wild and abandoned above his dark and violent sea of grief.

He pressed forward with her, one ship, entangled, sails unfurled.


	45. Ch 45 McCoy: Another Thursday

"You dislike counseling."

I purse my lips and the phrase _no shit, Sherlock_ wafts through my mind.

"I fix broken things. It's what I do." I swallow a slug of the awful replicated coffee and wonder if a dollop of formaldehyde might not improve it. "A broken leg or gouge, or Jim Kirk's allergy du jour. I'm less interested in wasting my time listening to some bored fool's sniveling self-indulgent monologue."

I realize Spock's staring at me even more expressionlessly than normal.

"You're hardly self-indulgent, Spock."

"My father would not agree."

"Sarek… must be one tough act to follow."

"Indeed."


	46. Ch 46 Scotty: Instructive

He just wanted a sandwich! Scott can't avoid hearing a conversation at a table just around the kitchen wall.

"No, lighter. You don't have to press there so hard."

A pause.

"Oh, oh. Much better. Good now stick your finger in there—No! Stop! OH…."

"I have caused damage." A sharp male intake of breath, appalled. "_Saliva?"_

"Mmm-hmm. Spit sticks it together. Oh, Scotty?"

The knife he held nearly flung into the air as he jumped.

"Aye! Ah! Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Come here."

"Erm…?"

"Can you fold an origami crane?"

"Ah, indeed I can, Lieutenant."

"I need help teaching Commander Spock."


	47. Ch 47 Spock: Old News

It is mother's birthday, a logical time to finally open her email.

I move to my desk, but find I must force myself to sit, to activate my console, to page to the archived emails.

Incoming. Vulcan, Shi'Kahr. Grayson, Amanda. My hand falters and I lean back.

"Maybe…try watching just one, baby."

I glance at Nyota, already dressed for sleep, and swallow. Perhaps that would be logical.

I breathe out and open an e-vid to mother smiling cheerfully, the room behind her filled with Vulcan's ruddy light.

_Just a quick hi to catch you up on the news around here…_


	48. Ch 48 Uhura: Love Abides

His quarters lit only by the ruddy glow of his firepot, he stares into my eyes.

Tonight he opened one of his mother's emails; one of twenty-seven he had neglected to open…before she died.

He flicked off his console; in silence dressed to sleep; in silence came to bed. Tonight he turns me to him, taking my hands and staring deeply into my eyes.

Oh, those eyes.

"My thoughts are filled with clichés…" He whispers.

"It's okay."

"... I still…she…"

"The feelings are still there, even when someone you love is gone."

"Indeed."

"She loved you, too."

"I know."


	49. Ch 49 Uhura: Dignity

The bathroom door closes, and I glance up from my keypad. Spock hesitates, thoughtfully studying his formal Vulcan robes draped carefully across the bed. He closes his eyes. I watch as his face shifts, softening as his shoulders relax-as if he's letting emotions just surface before being drained away as he slowly breathes out.

After a moment he squares his shoulders, his face glazing over with full Vulcan control: a transformation-but an honest, necessary one.

Now he is prepared; his human side tucked carefully away.

"I am ready."

I rise to help him don the complex, traditional garment.


	50. Ch 50 Spock: The Vote

At Sarek's behest, I am seated on the stage behind my father.

With T'Pau and so many leaders dead along with our planet, my father fell naturally into place as the voice of Vulcan, as the leader of the survivors. Sarek: his very presence so powerful. Sarek's resonant voice echoes through the half-empty stadium as the votes are tabulated.

Sarek beckons me forward with a glance over his shoulder. I rise, stepping forward to hand father my final tabulation of the survivor's votes.

"It is done." Sarek proclaims. "We have chosen. We shall found a new world, a new Vulcan."


	51. Ch 51 Spock: Public Strength

I watch as my father's strong hands still for a moment on the podium. Sarek's head bows slightly as he reaches to disable the PA system, his hand trembling.

I am suddenly uneasy. "Sarek?"

Sarek turns abruptly, brushing past me into the wing of the stage and I hurry after him.

In the semi-darkness off-stage, Sarek staggers a few more steps. I roughly slide a chair beneath Sarek as his legs buckle. For the first time in my life, I hear my father stifle a groan of pain.

I flip my communicator open. "Dr. McCoy, I have a medical emergency."


	52. Ch 52 McCoy: Private Worries

"About time." I chide gently as Uhura rushes into the hospital room.

It is dark and quiet but for the soft beeping of the medical devices attached to the Vulcan Ambassador.

"How is he?"

"He'll live. For now. Dr. M'Benga has exceptional experience treating Vulcans." He might be the only one left, too.

"I mean…"

I tilt my head toward Spock and bow away. Of course. Spock rises from the chair beside his father, setting his work Padd aside.

The damned Vulcan surprises me again, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Uhura and pressing his face into her hair.


	53. Ch 53 Spock: Formal Inquiry

A detailed inquiry was to be expected. But not _this_ charge: dereliction of duty.

_Dereliction..._

Too late, I control my expression; repress the sudden emotion…the anger. The panel's sharp observation reminds me of my VSA admission board.

"Sirs. Fleet protocol demands rescue of any distressed planet's highest governing body."

Admiral Komack stands. "You abandoned your command to save your parents."

"I was uniquely suited to attempt a rescue of the Vulcan High Command."

"And if that body had not included them—"

"Conjecture is illogical."

"You would have let them die."

I stare into space, controlling. I swallow, and nod.


	54. Ch 54 McCoy: Evaluation

I turn to my monitor as he enters my office for our little weekly counseling session.

I swear I can feel his defensiveness. I off-handedly push a poured and ready glass of Saurian brandy toward him.

"Here. You've earned this. Those desk jockey's were a little rough on you today."

He frowns a bit; then his shoulder's fall. I don't miss the tremor in his hand as he finally reaches for the glass. I turn back to my monitor.

"It's one thing to evaluate your motives, Spock; another to beat yourself up for them."

"I have no regrets." He murmurs.


	55. Ch 55 Kirk: Chess Set

To observe Spock's vigil beside the Ambassador, I hesitate in Sickbay's recovery room doorway.

Both Vulcans are focused: heads bowed over data entry pads, fingers flying, their backs slightly turned away from each other.

Spock looks up first.

"Uhura said your father taught you to play chess, Spock."

"Indeed, I did."

The Ambassador speaks without looking up, and I catch Spock glancing at Sarek.

I hold my chessboard out, an offer. "I never had that opportunity."

"Indeed." Sarek's fingers come to an abrupt halt, and he looks up. "Perhaps my son…would indulge me in a game this evening."

"Certainly."


	56. Ch 56 McCoy: Bad Advice

Despite my warning that Sarek might not survive surgery, that he should say _something _to his father, Spock's still balking. I crowd him roughly toward his father.

"Sarek…"

The older Vulcan stares wordlessly at the ceiling.

Spock steels himself and places his fingertips over his father's hand, an offer in the Vulcan way. I've seen that familial finger touch between other Vulcans. I cross my arms over my chest, feeling vindicated.

Then Sarek pulls his hand away; turns his face away.

Spock turns to me, his expression cool, his eyes accusing: _I knew this was ill advised._


	57. Ch 57 Spock: Waiting Room

Grandfather Greyson slowly limps down the hospital corridor to me. I stand. He gives my shoulder a quick squeeze.

"Any news?"

"Sarek has been in surgery for ten hours five minutes."

He nods, studying me for a moment. "It's okay to be afraid, son."

I wince: Mother's last words, verbatim.

"Spock…Of course you don't want to lose your father, too."

Grandfather and I keep a silent vigil until Doctor McCoy, still in surgical garb, appears.

We rise.

"He'll be fine."

I swallow compulsively. My vision blurring, I turn and walk away. I realize I did not anticipate my father surviving.


	58. Ch 58 McCoy: Long Day

I'm a surgeon, not a babysitter.

I wasn't too surprised to see Spock impulsively put his hand on his father's before surgery. But, afterward, to see Spock blind-sided by relief? That I didn't predict.

I prepared him for the worst and neglected to prepare him for success. My mistake. I should have known he'd be down to his last straw.

Not the first Vulcan I've seen cloud up lately, sure he won't be the last, either.

"Shall I take your thanks back to Dr. M'benga?" I ask ironically.

"Certainly." He manages to roughly cough out.

"Vulcans." I mutter, turning away.


	59. Ch 59 Kirk: Shadows

I decide to take a break from visiting Pike and find my way to Fleet Hospital's roof.

I find a wall and lean back, watching the stars and the space stations sliding by. It's peaceful up here, like nothing has changed at all.

The roof access opens and I shrink into the shadows.

It's Spock and Uhura and they slip easily into a long embrace.

He gestures helplessly toward 40 Eridani.

"Mother said…no matter what, I could always come home."

Uhura kisses him tenderly. "Baby, you _are_ home. You are."

He embraces her again, tightly.

She whispers, "Let me help."


	60. Ch 60 Uhura: Redeployment

Sarek looks up at Spock from his hospital bed.

"You intend to leave with the Enterprise…?"

"I…have changed my mind."

I turn away from the window to observe father and son. I know Spock is torn by his decision to remain in Star Fleet.

Sarek's disappointment is clear, but he seems to steel himself. "You honor your commitment. This is commendable."

He extends two fingers to his son. "Nonetheless, I would prefer you were by my side as our people rebuild."

Spock hesitates before touching his own fingertips to his father's. "If I am needed…"

"You will be _missed,_ Spock."


	61. Ch 61 Uhura: Private Dance

"Aren't you going to ask if I had fun?"

Spock glances up from his desk, the dimmed light in his quarters shadowing his face. "Was that not the purpose of your shore leave?"

I sigh.

He punches a key on his console, stands. Quiet jazz begins to play. "The dance club was satisfactory?"

"Hmm."

"Indeed?"

"Missed you."

My love bends to kiss me before taking me in his arms.

We start to sway softly in time to the music, and I lean my head against his chest.

"I thought you didn't dance."

"Sometimes…in the privacy of our home…my mother insisted."


	62. Ch 62 Kirk: Security Project

I stalk around the briefing room table, scanning the faces of the project team I've assembled. I activate the dataport and ruddy New Vulcan appears on the presentation wall.

"Officers: our mission."

Spock and Uhura exchange a glance.

"We will be deploying the Federation's most advanced communications and security arrays. Fleet's guaranteeing New Vulcan will be safe."

Scotty crosses his arms and nods approvingly.

"I have one more project expert to bring aboard."

The conference room door slides open to admit the last member of the team.

Ambassador Selek strides into the room and smoothly seats himself.

"Captain. Please continue."


	63. Ch 63 Spock: A Word with Selek

"A word in private, Commander."

I nod and wait while the other project team members exit the conference room.

'Selek' studies me with what can only be amusement.

"Sir?"

"I see you took my advice."

"Your argument was persuasive."

"I had 'inside' information." Selek's face shifts into Vulcan expressionlessness. "I have no intention of interfering in your life. I am merely offering my expertise. And 'bumming a ride' to New Vulcan."

He is amused that his informal phrasing shocks me. "I remain…conflicted. My people-"

"Are here. This crew. Someday you will realize your time with _them_…was altogether too fleeting."


	64. Ch 64 Kirk: Insomnia

"Spock? What…?"

I stand aside and gesture for my XO to enter. He enters, but hovers uncertainly by the door of my quarters when it closes behind him.

"Report." I prompt, puzzled that he is in off-duty clothes: his meditation robe and black Vulcan-style slippers.

Spock clasps his hands behind his back. "Captain…I…"

I realize Uhura and Scotty are out in the Galileo with a handful of Vulcans, working on the communications array.

McCoy's down on New Vulcan.

Spock _should_ be sleeping. Oh.

I pull my chess set out and gesture for Spock to sit. "Perfect timing, Spock."

"Indeed, sir."


	65. Ch 65 Spock: On Bogozh-czar

My father termed this planet 'new Vulcan' and the unfortunate description became the common name among Star Fleet's personnel.

I am inclined to use the Vulcanir name my people whisper under their breath: _Purgatory. _Not quite hell: a place of waiting, where oblivion would be a respite from despair and emptiness.

I close my eyes, blocking out the dust and the alien disaster response workers busily erecting the infrastructure of this new world.

They admire and wonder at our equanimity, our calm control. But it is a deception.

These Vulcan refugees…I can sense it….burn with sorrow, no less than I.


	66. Ch 66 Spock: Visiting Sarek on New Vulc

I am amused by my father's quiet puttering about in his new home, fussing with kitchenware he is unaccustomed to handling. I have never seen him cook before.

The comm chimes; he takes the call with evident relief. In his absence I continue his soup preparation.

His tone rises abruptly, sharp and angry. "I will have no more of this discussion."

Then silence, as abruptly.

I stop chopping the plomeek. When I find my father he is as upset as I have ever seen him. "Samekh?"

He turns away. "Inconceivable."

Sarek, too, then: under pressure to accept a Vulcan bondmate.


	67. Ch 67 Spock: New Vulcan Visitor

A soft rap catches my attention.

"Go." Sarek motions with his hand.

The door opens to Nyota smiling up at me, uncertain.

"We're waiting for array replacement parts from Tellar." She explains, unasked. "The Captain…insisted I beam down."

Father appears at my shoulder. "Invite her in, Spock. Have you forgotten your manners?"

She smiles at Sarek and enters.

"I bid thee welcome, daughter." He bows graciously.

"In peace…Ambassador." Nyota carefully responds.

"Please. Sarek will do."

Father's unexpected overture of acceptance leaves me speechless.

Moved, I swallow, checking my control.

I square my shoulders, face Nyota, and boldly take her hand.


	68. Ch 68 Kirk: Tracing Names

He'd rolled his eyes. "First, middle, and last names are not for life stages."

"Then what does Tiberius mean?"

"It means a long and ultimately dull story."

Gaila had tossed her red curls back, "I know."

"Oh?"

A long, freshly black-lacquered nail traced circles on his bare chest. "An acronym. T is for…" Her lush mouth pursed, "_tempting_."

"Of course. And?"

"I? I is for idealistic."

"Interesting. Go on."

"Beautiful. Earnest. Raunchy—"

"Hey!"

She grinned. "_Shush!_ Intelligent. Unsurpassed. Sexy."

"You _did_ know!" He'd exclaimed. And she'd laughed…

Kirk's fingertips slid from the name carved into the stone memorial wall.


	69. Ch 69 McCoy: Resistance is Brutal

"I've told you already: you're blocked. Stuck. Until you deal with your grief over losing your planet and your mother we'll just keep re-hashing the same problems."

He stands abruptly-I expect this.

"Good day, Doctor."

Frustrated by his resistance, I give a cursory wave as he skedaddles.

Of course, it's that same willfulness that makes him command material.

But I'm stubborn, too.

Surprisingly, my door slides open and he's back.

I wait, letting my silence surprise _him_.

"I do not know how..."

No sign of emotion slips out.

"Take a seat, Spock." I lean forward, interested. "Let me help."


	70. Ch 70 Spock: Letting Go

I remain silent through yet another mandatory counseling session.

I am not as impervious to the Doctor's words as he believes, nor as I would prefer to be.

The appointment expended, I stiffly excuse myself and hasten to the privacy of my quarters.

It is indeed not what I _think. _

McCoy is right: what I _feel_ is that I killed you, mother. I breathe out slowly. Guilt rises like some festering poison.

_I failed you. I failed you. You were beside me and fell to your death. How could I have been so close and still fail to save you?_


	71. Ch 71 Kirk: A Friend In Need

The Denobulan's eyes suddenly widen and he crashes forward, his raised fist going slack. In my grossly inebriated state, I twist aside-barely missing being crushed by the massive and rather putrid falling hulk.

"Well." I say brilliantly, straightening my uniform. Hell. Spock's here? I list to port but Spock grabs my arm and bodily drags me out.

"Ow…" I mutter, rubbing my armpit as Spock calls for emergency beam-out. I glance back, searching for the cute Veladian stripper.

"Jim."

One year gone. God damn it all.

"Jim. Captain Pike... I _know_…"

I study Spock's face and nod. He does.


	72. Ch 72 McCoy: Ship of Fools

Damn fool off trying to get himself killed in some rat-hole of a bar-!

The Vulcan speaks softly, "It has been one year since Captain Pike was killed. He…was a father figure to Jim–"

"Tell me something I don't know." I interrupt Spock as I call for the nurse to bring a tray of medications. Damn it. "Jesus. Between Jim running wild and you believing you murdered your mother—"

"I think no such—"

"_Feel_ not think, Spock." I interrupt sharply, evaluating the Captain's readings. "There's a difference, you know."

Spock turns sharply and leaves. Damn fool.


	73. Ch 73 Uhura: Old Wounds

I know something isn't right when Spock rushes directly through our quarters to the restroom.

I know better than to hit him with an inquisition when he's upset. I dim the lights, raise the temperature, light his asenoi.

When he comes out, his hair is damp around his face—for him, extraordinary carelessness.

Avoiding my gaze, he slides into his robe and sits heavily on his meditation dais.

After his third sigh, I risk breaking the silence.

"Jim okay?"

"He is in sick bay recovering."

"And you?"

He swallows hard, puts a fist to his mouth and shakes his head.


	74. Ch 74 Uhura: Doctoring

Tears spring into Uhura's eyes. "You know you can hurt him, right? You know he's not like a robot at all."

"I know. I said something I shouldn't have. I'll apologize to him."

"Later, when he's…better, right?"

I have no interest in humiliating the Vulcan. Poking sticks into his clockworks for Fleet evaluations is intrusive enough. "Later. Sure. Now, you go take care of him and yourself, too, you hear?"

When Uhura's gone, I pour myself a brandy and go to check on the Captain.

I raise a toast to Jim, and drink. "Spock's as much trouble as you, kid."


	75. Ch 75 Uhura: Going Unsaid

I'm used to his post-counseling stony silences, and I let our evening unwind in the usual way: he drifts to his data port in silence, we eat in Vulcan silence, he meditates in silence. I think the only thing that breaks the silence is my sigh as I slip into a silky gown for sleep.

"Nyota."

I turn and he comes to me. He takes my hands and raises my fingertips to his lips, closing his eyes. His warm breath washes over my hands.

"Are you okay, Spock?"

"Nyota, I…"

"Hmm. You love me?" I tease.

He nods, serious. "Yes."


	76. Ch 76 Spock: Musing

What sustains me is this: your sweet face, your shining eyes, the way my kisses still make you smile in delight and wonder.

Sometimes…my losses are so great I do not know how to bear the silence.

To exist in such _isolation…_

Then we touch, curl together, fitting as you say, like spoons. My arms encircle you: your cheek on my arm, your foot slides along my leg until it finds just the right curve to serve its angle of repose.

The beat of your heart against my chest steadies me: I am pulled into the gravitas of your orbit.


	77. Ch 77 Spock: A Friend Indeed

Kirk pauses the lift and turns to me, looking contrite.

I am…trapped and yet grateful for the privacy.

"I, ah…er, appreciate the rescue, Spock." Kirk runs his hand nervously through his hair. "I hope I wasn't…you know, ungrateful."

Ah. The Captain suffers from alcohol induced memory loss. I let Jim, briefly, squirm in discomfort.

My mother was an expert _tease._

"What happened on Starbase Twelve…stays on Starbase Twelve." I intone with magisterial resonance.

Kirk blinks, then breaks into a surprised grin and cuffs my shoulder playfully. Surprisingly, his abuse is not objectionable.

"Jim. In the vernacular…'I have your back.' "


	78. Ch 78 Uhura: Just Breathe

In the dim green light I watch you breathe. Your chest rises and falls, your white thermal shirt gives and stretches in turn. Breathe, just breathe.

McCoy says you may never be the same; this is the new normal.

I wish you peace. I wish you sleep sans night terrors; sans grief that both wakes and mortifies you. I wish for languid nights where I am no longer your lifeline.

I wish for those careless nights of abandon and discovery; moments in the dark when your mask could safely be set aside.

Breathe for me. I am suffocating beside you.


	79. Ch 79 Spock: Salad Nights

She is restless.

My control over my levels of consciousness is not what it once was. I struggle awake to find Nyota studying me, her face shadowed in the dimmed light of my quarters.

"Nyota." I whisper into the silence. "Come." I open my arms and she slides forward into my embrace, but her mind is closed.

I take her face between my hands, searching her expression. "Where is the confident Cadet who blithely seduced me?"

"_Blithely_—!?" Then she breaks into a chuckle. "Oh. I have crazy powers that way."

"A demonstration is in order."

"Well. Watch and learn." 


End file.
